


10 drabble-ish things

by misura



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-14
Updated: 2011-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-14 18:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 drabble-ish things (9x Chuck/Casey and 1x Chuck/Cole) that were written for the Chuck Slash Holiday Exchange 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	10 drabble-ish things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyofpride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofpride/gifts).



> The prompts I used for this were all taken from my recipient's list of interests.

_action_

"Personally, I think of my gun as a 'Vera'," Casey says, looking at the way Chuck is moving the piece of cloth Casey's given him up and down the barrel of his gun and frowning.

"That's really very ... interesting, Casey." The word, Chuck thinks, is 'disturbing'. It's a good, solid Casey kind of word. "So guns are women, huh?"

Casey scowls. " _Women_ , Bartowski, not _ladies_. You're supposed to be cleaning that gun until it gleams. Long, hard, _firm_ strokes. Put some back in it."

"Uh, yeah, I don't think that's really working for me."

"Well, or you could just think of it as my dick," Casey says.

 

 _archery_

"Just think of me as Cupid," Morgan tells Anna, feeling smug as he holds up the keys to The Cage.

She looks at the key and back to his face again, eyebrows raised.

"Chuck and John ... alone all night." It's a classic. "Well, not 'alone' alone," he corrects himself. "Obviously. More like _together_ alone. You know?"

"Morgan, you're a _genius_." She looks like she means it, which is just so, _so_ nice. Nothing like the admiration of a hot woman to make a guy's day that extra bit brighter - unless, of course, you're Chuck, in which case - well.

He strokes his beard the way they do it in the movies. "I know."

 

 _ballroom dancing_

The Captain has taught him how to tango - Casey teaches him the rest.

"Just to check: you're not teaching me the girl's part here, are you?"

"Eyes up front, soldier," Casey growls, and if Chuck sighs, he does it mentally, safely in the privacy of his own head (which, okay, maybe not so safe after all, considering what else is in there).

"Casey?" Chuck's been working on speaking without moving his head or his lips ... much. "Answer the question. Please."

It's probably only Chuck's imagination that Casey's grip on him tightens a bit (not that it wasn't pretty tight already before). "Of course I'm not teaching you the girl's part."

"Oh." Not quite the answer Chuck was expecting - they're dancing together, after all, and Casey's _obviously_ dancing a different part than Chuck, so if he really is teaching Chuck the guy's part, then that would mean .... "Good."

Casey flashes him a grin. "Wishing Walker was here instead of me, Bartowski?"

In this one case, maybe Sarah _would_ have been the better choice. "No?"

"Smart answer," Casey replies, dipping him.

 

 _bryce/chuck_

They're drunk - or at least Chuck is, and he doesn't think that makes it all right or anything but he figures that Casey's probably used to his saying stupid things while sober by now, so if he says something stupid while drunk, that actually might make him sound halfway intelligent ... or something. (He's _drunk_ ; logic would be a bit too much to ask right now.)

"I slept with Bryce," he says, because Bryce has been dead for exactly a year today and it could have been Casey who killed him, except that it wasn't, and Chuck's not sure what he'd be doing right now if it had been. Exactly the same thing, maybe, minus the whole part where it _hurts_.

Casey takes another swig from whatever he's having. (He doesn't share, does Casey; he's a mean drunk that way.) "Who didn't?" he asks, sounding dismissive. "Guy was a superspy, Bartowski. They get around."

"Hey," Chuck says, because it wasn't like that, like Bryce blazing in and out of his life to the sound of gunshots and explosions - it was friendship and late night studying and movies and popcorn fights. "Hey. He was my friend, you know? My roommate." _My first love_ , Chuck doesn't say, because he's not quite _that_ drunk.

Casey says nothing, doesn't even look at him.

"And you know, you're kind of a superspy, too," Chuck says, since he figures maybe Casey is a little jealous, even if _he_ 's the one making Bryce out to be some sort of James Bond.

"Guess you got a type, huh?" Casey says.

 

 _casey/chuck_

"Major Casey."

"General." She _knows_. He's not sure who told her - Walker doesn't seem the type to tattle, not even to her own superiors, let alone to his - and it's only of secondary interest right now, anyway. She /knows/. His palms feel a little bit sweaty all of a sudden.

"John," she says, with a sigh that tells him everything she's not going to ask him. "Are you sure you've got everything under control?"

"Yes, ma'am." The truth is that there are very few things he's sure of these days, but one of them is that he's not going to turn his back on this ... thing with Bartowski. Major John Casey is not a quitter.

She nods once, sharply, her official mask back in place again. "Good. That was all, major."

"Wait," he says, before she can break the connection.

She gives him a raised eyebrow that almost makes him change his mind. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Don't mention it, major." She doesn't smile. He hadn't expected her to, anyway.

 

 _drawing_

Chuck appears first, his body not ripped or muscled or hairy the way Morgan is, but pleasant enough to look at all the same - he's naked, although the soft colors don't allow for much detail and so the picture still remains at a rating appropriate for teenagers for the moment.

His back is arched, head thrown back with eyes mostly closed. His hair looks messy and a little sweaty; not enough to make it look gross, but sufficient to cause one's imagination to come up with activities he might have indulged in earlier, activities he might be indulging in even now.

Casey's hands take shape once Chuck is completed. They're on Chuck's chest, blurring the lines, and once they're there, the rest of the picture starts becoming clearer, more defined. It becomes a picture of two people having sex and enjoying it.

(Anna looks at the finished product and decides she's really going to have to talk Morgan into installing a few videocameras in the breakroom.)

 

 _fanfiction_

 _'Chuck,' John said, eyes heavy with a burning lust that made Chuck's knees turn to grapefruit jelly. 'I promise you I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk again for a week.'_

"Oh. My. God," Chuck said. "This is - " Definitely something he couldn't allow Casey to see.

Which was why the first person he saw when he turned around was that very man, of course. "Reading porn at work, Bartowski?"

"Er," Chuck said, because, well, er? Was it okay to get turned on by porn about you and the guy you tried really hard not to think of as your boyfriend because he could kill you with his pinkie?

"You want to read the good stuff, you should check out _'Villainy in C minor'_. Pretty hot. Got a hard copy at my apartment, if you're interested. And the sequels."

"Er," Chuck said.

"This one's not too bad either," Casey said. "Anna's, right? Only one who writes me as 'John the schmuck who works at the Buy More'."

"You knew about this?" Chuck asked a little weakly.

"I'm NSA, Bartowski. I work in intelligence. Look it up in the dictionary some time."

"You could have maybe told me about it?"

Casey shrugged. "Why give away my secret source of ideas for new places to have sex? Not to mention the roleplaying scenarios and, of course, the sex toys."

"I did not need to hear that."

 

 _pasta_

When Ellie makes spaghetti, it means a family dinner - just her and the Captain and Chuck, pretending there's no slurping or slorping or tomato sauce ending up on people's noses and cheeks (because in the Bartowski household, you don't _cut_ your spaghetti, and somehow none of them have mastered the art of eating it properly wound up on a fork, the way you see on TV sometimes).

When Ellie makes mac'n'cheese, it means a free for all. Morgan will likely as not pop out of the woodwork (he's got 'instincts') and Anna might follow (she's got a 'Morgan radar') and Sarah might drop by (she's lonely, Chuck thinks sometimes) and Casey might show up with a smile and either dessert or a bottle of wine, doing the whole 'friendly neighbor' thing that never fails to creep Chuck out - because Casey is not this nice, cheerful guy who sits next to the Captain and lets him get away with elbowing him; Casey's this guy who saves the world and loves his guns almost as much as he loves Chuck (if not more) and who has sex in the breakroom of the Buy More because (Chuck would swear) the idea of someone walking in on them turns him on.

When Captain Awesome makes lasagna, it means a candlelit dinner for two - him and Ellie, and Chuck gets that, he really does. (It also means getting a foil-wrapped dish pressed into his hands when he gets back from work, and knocking on the door to Casey's apartment with a sheepish expression on his face and a silent prayer that Casey's not in the process of making his own dinner on his lips.)

 

 _sleep_

Even in his sleep, Casey looks dangerous. He's a deep sleeper, even so - once he starts yawning (or starts hiding the fact that he can't keep from yawning), he's usually out like a light in ten seconds flat.

Chuck's the one lying awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking.

The first few times, he was afraid to move, to wake up Casey by trying to get more comfortable, but he's gradually realized that there's close to nothing he can do to wake Casey up once he's gone. It's a little strange; he'd think Casey would be a light sleeper, ready to leap out of bad and switch to combat mode, not requiring a good few solid kicks to the shin merely to let Chuck go to the bathroom.

"Gun's under the pillow," Casey mumbles when Chuck gets back. His cold feet don't seem to do much in the way of waking Casey either.

"You have a loaded gun under your pillow?" Chuck asks, hand already reaching because he reasons Casey might just be dreaming or something.

"Ha!" Casey says, eyes still closed. "Never said it was loaded. Sucker."

"Oh, good," Chuck says, relaxing right before his hand closes around the gun.

("You shot my _nightstand_?" Casey says, not five seconds later, wide awake and as pissed as Chuck's ever seen him. "What kind of psycho are you, Bartowski?")

 

 _tea_

"Stirred, not shaken, please," Cole says with a smile, and it takes Chuck a few moments to get the reference, to smile back.

"Kind of early for alcohol, isn't it?"

They're in London, Casey and Sarah an ocean away (as far as Chuck knows, anyway) and there's no way Cole isn't going to turn him in to MI5 or MI6 or Scotland Yard or whatever else they have over here that's secret and interested in getting their hands on the Intersect, but right now, Chuck can almost manage not to think of that, to pretend he's just a simple guy having breakfast with a friend.

"It's how I take my tea," Cole says. "My lovers, also," he adds.


End file.
